His Good Girl
by sdbubbles
Summary: Gerry is astounded by what he hears in the car with a moody Sandra, and he's never going to let it go. So how can he use this new side to Sandra Pullman? And, more importantly, how can he make her realise she's so much better than she ever thought? Sandra/Gerry.
1. Her Voice

**A/N: This is just something I thought up through the night when I couldn't sleep, and it wouldn't leave me alone. I can see this being quite light-hearted, and I think I know where I'm going with this one. But I know Gerry's got an idea in his head, and he's not letting it go.**

**Also, I chose the song "Good Girl" by Carrie Underwood.**

**Enjoy!**

**Sarah x**

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Sandra and Gerry were in the car, quietly listening to the radio. Sandra was very quiet today, and Gerry was convinced she had broken up with the boyfriend he knew she had. And he had a feeling she had chosen a man who had done something she didn't like and then broke it off with her. If he knew who it was, Gerry felt like he would break his nose for doing that to Sandra. She was too good for any man, never mind one who would mess her around.

A song with heavy backing track full of guitars and drums came on, and, to his surprise, Sandra started to sing along. She sounded alright, too, which was even more unexpected.

_Hey, good girl  
With your head in the clouds  
I bet you I can tell you  
What you're thinkin' about  
You'll see a good boy  
Gonna give you the world  
But he's gonna leave you cryin'  
With your heart in the dirt_

_His lips are dripping honey_  
_But he'll sting you like a bee_  
_So lock up all your loving_  
_Go and throw away the key_

_Hey good girl  
Get out while you can  
I know you think you got a good man_

He was surprised to find that her voice was powerful, and she really could _sing_. He'd known her for years, and never known she could sing like that. She seemed to have forgotten that she had company in her car, and that he was sitting listening to her. She seemed to vent her frustration in the song. Her fingers were drumming the beat onto the steering wheel, and she was lost in the song.

How could he have known her so long without knowing the strength of her voice? It was incredible, for Christ's sake. If he wasn't sitting there watching her, he wouldn't have believed it. When he told Jack and Brian he would be accused of having them on.

He returned his thoughts to Sandra, and if he was honest with himself, she was really quite attractive when she was singing like this. When she forgot she was being watched by anyone. When she didn't care what he thought of her.

_Why, why you gotta be so blind?_  
_Won't you open up your eyes?_  
_It's just a matter of time 'til you find_  
_He's no good, girl_  
_No good for you_  
_You better get to getting on your goodbye shoes and go, go, go..._  
_Better listen to me_  
_He's low, low, low..._

As she sang along with Carrie Underwood, it became clear that she was pissed off with whatever had happened between her and the man who had made her so quiet today. Well, at least she was letting out her feelings. Maybe she wouldn't shout at him the second he put a foot wrong today, in her annoyance at someone else. She had a habit of doing that, he noticed. Having a pop at him when she was wound up or angry or upset.

She was still paying attention to the road, and the traffic jam they were stuck in. Typical London bloody traffic. Didn't help that it was the evening rush hour and they were set to work late tonight.

_Hey, good girl  
You got a heart of gold  
You want a white wedding  
And a hand you can hold  
Just like you should, girl  
Like every good girl does  
Want a fairytale ending, somebody to love_

_But he's really good at lying_  
_Yeah, he'll leave you in the dust_  
_'Cause when he says forever_  
_Well, it don't mean much_  
_Hey good girl_  
_So good for him_  
_Better back away, honey_  
_You don't know where he's been_

Gerry watched her carefully, wondering why she ad never let go like this in front of him before. She looked annoyed with herself as she sang, like she was realising that she'd been an idiot to trust a man. She had heard one of their phone conversations last week and she had seemed quite content with him. Today, though, she was hurt and angry. He could tell when she was hurt. She tried to hide it but never quite managed to get rid of every piece of evidence.

The red, bloodshot eyes, for example, told him she had been crying and drinking last night. The box of paracetamol carelessly discarded on the dash was evidence that she was suffering a headache, a rare occurrence for Sandra Pullman. She was hurt, and hungover, and weary and he didn't like it.

_Why, why you gotta be so blind?_  
_Won't you open up your eyes?_  
_It's just a matter of time 'till you find_  
_He's no good, girl_  
_No good for you_  
_You better get to getting on your goodbye shoes and go, go, go..._  
_Yeah yeah yeah, he's low_  
_Yeah yeah yeah_

He wanted to know how she could sing like that, with so much power and strength, when she wasn't even really trying. She was amazing. He couldn't understand it at all. She was one of those people he just couldn't imagine singing anything, never mind a song like _that_, with strong vocals.

He didn't realise he was staring at her until she moved find her sunglasses, reaching past him to the glove compartment, still singing like nothing he'd ever seen before. Even bent over, straining her lungs and diaphragm. When she put the dark glasses on and returned her gaze to the slowly moving traffic, he had smile. Did she realise how sexy she looked, singing with her sunglasses on? If he thought he would get off with it, he would have kissed her there and then. But that would only end in disaster.

_Oh, he's no good, girl_  
_Why can't you see?_  
_He'll take your heart and break it_  
_Listen to me, yeah_

_Why, why you gotta be so blind?_  
_Won't you open up your eyes?_  
_It's just a matter of time 'til you find_  
_He's no good, he's no good_

_Won't you open up your eyes?_  
_It's just a matter of time 'til you find_  
_He's no good, girl_  
_He's no good for you_  
_You better get to getting on your goodbye shoes..._

When she finished singing, the silence seemed louder to Gerry than her voice had been. He stared at her in a state of mild shock. How the bloody hell did she hide _that_ her whole life? When they reached another set of traffic lights, she glanced around at him, taking in his expression.

"What?" she demanded. Had she not realised she was singing so potently and so brilliantly? Did she not understand how good her voice was?

"You can _sing_," he said to her. Wasn't it blatantly obvious?

"No, I can't," she argued. "I sound awful when I sing," she added.

"What the bleedin' hell was that, then?" he asked her. What was this? How come she didn't know she could sing?

"What are you on about?" Gerry was confused now. She didn't know she was singing along to Carrie Underwood, and sounding just as great as the original singer, if not even better. How could she not realise she was singing?

In her defence, she had a lot on her mind. He knew she was hurt over her boyfriend and whatever happened there, and he knew this case was important to her, so she did have a lot to think about. Maybe it was an automatic thing, like it sometimes was with him. He had been told by his daughters that he started singing as soon as he heard a song he knew. Maybe Sandra did the same and didn't know she was doing it.

So Gerry decided to play silly beggars until he decided what to do with this new information about his strong, sexy guv'nor. "Nothing," he replied. "Must have been daydreaming," he gave an excuse. He knew she was too tired and hungover to argue with him, so she shrugged and returned her gaze to the road in front of her, finally clear of traffic.

She didn't speak again for a good ten minutes, and he saw that she was thinking things over. She threw him her phone and said to him, "There's a name in my contacts. Mark Howe."

He scrolled through the phone until he found the name. "Yeah, got it," he told her. "What now?"

"Delete it," she ordered him, the bitterness clear in her voice. Gerry didn't ask anything else, knowing it was a dangerous road to take with Sandra, especially when she was in a mood this this one. So he just did as he was told, and handed the phone back to her.

They reached their destination – the pub their victim used to frequent in the late 1990s – and she agreed to sit down with him for a drink, since, technically, they were off duty. He was still a bit shocked at her hidden talent, and even more so that she didn't even know it existed. Something had to be done about _that_, he decided.

He would have to work out how to proceed with this new side to Sandra Pullman. She didn't even know her own ability. After all, all that talent couldn't go to waste, could it?

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**Hope this is OK!**

**Please leave a review and tell me what you think!**

**Sarah x**


	2. Her Pain

**A/N: This is the second chapter - it's a bit heavier than the first, but things get lighter and funnier from here on out :)**

**Sarah x**

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It was half-past seven that night before they got back to UCOS, finding Jack searching some database for a suspect, and Brian obsessively going through the accounts of the victim's grocery business, after finding some rather worrying anomalies in the records.

Gerry sat down at his desk, and Sandra, still in a foul mood, stalked right past them without a word into her office. Jack looked at Gerry and then at the recently slammed door to her office and demanded, "What did you say to her this time?"

This annoyed Gerry to no end. He was always the one who got the finger pointed at him whenever she was in a mood. "Nothing!" he retorted. "It's not always my fault, you know," he reminded him.

"Then what on Earth is wrong with her?" Jack asked, and Gerry knew he was concerned for Sandra. She always was temperamental, but she only ever went in a proper mood when something, or someone, went badly wrong.

"I think that boyfriend of hers turned out to be a wrong 'un," he admitted. "She made me delete his number from her mobile while she was driving. Anyway, never mind that just now," he waved his hand as he changed the subject. "She can _sing_."

"Get away," Brian said, looking up from the accounts at this news. "Sandra Pullman can sing?" Gerry knew neither one believed him, but he knew what he heard. "How do you know?" asked Brian.

"That new song, the one by Carrie Underwood -" he tried to recall the title but failed. "You know, _Why, why you gotta be so blind? Won't you open up your eyes_...that one?" he supplied some of the chorus for some help.

"_Good Girl_," Brian inserted for him.

"Yeah. Caitlin's always playing it," Gerry finally remembered the name, thanks to Brian. "Anyway, it came on the radio and she started singing it," he shrugged. "But she's got an incredible voice!" he exclaimed, trying to emphasise the importance of it. "And she thinks she can't sing."

"Whatever you're thinking of doing, Gerry, don't," warned Jack solemnly. Gerry sighed, and looked at Sandra's office. For her to be like this, something serious must have gone wrong last night. It worried him that she was silent and thoughtful, speaking only when spoken to. He got up and walked up to the door of her office, and heard Jack tell him, "I wouldn't if I was you. We'd be better to leave her to it."

Gerry ignored the caution; he wanted to know what the hell had silenced Sandra Pullman, of all people. She hadn't even threatened him with unemployment or death or castration today – something had to be wrong with her. So he knocked on her office door, hearing a quiet, "Come in," from her.

When he entered the room, she was staring at her computer screen. He shut the door gently behind him. "Are you OK, guv?" he asked her gently.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she replied with her usual dazzling smile. But Gerry saw the sadness and hurt in her eyes, and knew then that something really _had _gone drastically wrong with this Mark Howe person. Her boyfriend, whom she'd been with for months now, and the first man she actually let them know about. She was usually very private about such matters.

"You're lying, Sandra," he accused softly, and he knew the unusual care and gentleness in his voice would take her by surprise. When she looked at him, he could tell she was wondering what to say. So she _did _realise how quiet and reserved she'd been. She removed her hands from the keyboard and her gaze from the screen. "What happened last night?" he said. "You were fine yesterday and then this morning you weren't."

She sighed and ran her fingers through her light blonde hair. He briefly wondered whether she'd bothered with it this morning; he'd just noticed it wasn't quite as tidy as it normally was. Another sign that something bad had happened. Slowly, she lifted the main front section of her hair, and revealed a partially make-up concealed, small, bruise and a cut that looked like it had been stitched only just last night. She must have been to the nearest A&E and got checked over. _That's my smart girl_, he thought with a wry smile to himself.

The he realised that this arse Mark Howe must have hurt her. "Did _he_ do that to you?" asked Gerry, his temper rising at the thought of someone knocking his Sandra around. She nodded, her eyes glistening with tears she was too stubborn to cry in front of him.

"He started swinging and I started walking," she retorted, her voice slightly cracked. "Don't tell Jack and Brian," she added. "They'll just worry, and I don't want that." Gerry understood why she didn't want them to know, and if that was her wish then he wouldn't breathe a single word to them about this.

"Has he done this before?" he enquired in a soft, delicate tone that he rarely ever used.

"No," Sandra sighed. "You honestly think I'd put up with that crap more than once?" she demanded, looking slightly offended.

He raised his hands in surrender, a silent message that he was aware of her toughness and her intelligence. What it didn't say was that he adored these qualities about her, and he honestly thought that, right now, she needed someone in her life who was just...there. He beckoned her with his hands, opening his arms for her. To his sheer amazement, she rose from her chair and walked straight into his arms.

He admired her for never giving a second chance to a man who was willing to throw a punch at her when she stood up for herself. He admired the fact that she was able to stay strong through anything. He just admired _her_, just the way she was. He out his arm gently around her neck and pulled her close. He actually had got a scare when he saw the bruise on her head. That someone, a man she trusted, had hit her in the head, frightened him. But he was glad it was the last time. He knew she was never going back to a man capable of that. But he also knew that she would find it hard to trust others for a while.

He was glad that she had the strength to just cut ties. She even got Gerry to delete his number from her phone. "That's my good girl," he whispered in her ear, trying to soothe her a little. He could tell she was still reeling from the shock of being struck like she must have been by a man who wasn't a hardened criminal.

"I'm _nobody's_ good girl," she replied, smacking his side lightly. "Even if we were married, I still wouldn't be your _good girl_," she added, lightly mocking the term. She didn't realise that the pet name had actually came from a song she didn't know she had sung, and so brilliantly, too.

He smiled. She had, not realising it, put her foot right in it. "You would marry me?" he teased her. He felt her smiling into his shoulder and just knew she was realising what she'd said.

"Maybe," she allowed. She was grinning into his shoulder now and he knew that there was a joke coming, and at his expense. "If there was an 'off' button for your mouth so I wouldn't have to murder you," she smirked. He just placed a tender kiss into her slightly messed-up hair, smiling into the top of her head as he did so.

She was going to be just fine, because, as he told her, she was his good girl.

Now to find a way to force her to see her own ability when it came to singing. It really annoyed him that she could sing anything beautifully, and she thought she couldn't sing at all. He would find a way, and he didn't care if she killed him for it, but he was going to make her see it.

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**Hope this is OK!**

**Please feel free to leave a review and tell me what you thought!**

**Sarah x**


	3. Her Smile

**A/N: Chapter 3! This is where Gerry starts scheming (as usual).**

**Sarah x**

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Weeks passed Gerry by as he tried his best to dream up a scheme to get Sandra to sing again, preferably in public, and he was still keeping a watchful eye on her. And keeping a lookout for that piece of scum who smacked her in the head. He was never going to forget that look of shame on her face when she confessed to being hit by her boyfriend. She was still slightly embarrassed and a bit miserable, even after about three weeks. He thought she was annoyed with herself for trusting the man enough to let it happen.

Sandra was not one for expressing her feelings through words. She preferred to use Gerry as an emotional punch bag of sorts, taking her pain out on him. That was why, for the past couple of days, because she was upset, Gerry found himself on the receiving end of a whole load of sarcasm and she blamed him for everything. But he let it happen, since she was getting it all out her system after letting it build up for weeks by not talking about what happened to her.

He was about to leave the building on inquiries with Jack, and spotted a bright poster. The first ever Metropolitan Police Music Contest. This was _exactly_ what he was looking for – he wouldn't even have to convince her to go, seeing as Strickland always roped her into these things. It was brilliant! As if someone had read his mind and presented him with his answer.

"Hey, Jack," he called after his older friend. "Wait a second, will you?" He stopped to read the poster, seeing that entries were to be made, with a description of the act and chosen song, name of contestant, rank and squad and, if needed, a backing track, by this Friday and handed into the reception to be passed on to the organiser. Sandra wouldn't even need to know.

Jack was behind him, reading the sign over his shoulder. "The prize is a holiday for two to Paris?" Jack questioned, reading it off the paper. "I know what you're thinking, Gerry, and I'm sure you've got a death wish."

The man had a point, in all fairness. Sandra would slaughter him for being held out to her colleagues, especially her superiors, like that. He would be dead within three minutes of her coming off the stage. But she_ would_ go up on the stage – she was too proud to cower from a challenge like that. So he, against Jack's advice and ignoring his protests, picked up an entry form from the young woman working the reception.

Jack, of course, reminded him of what would surely be the consequence of his plan, and strongly recommended he get it out of his head. To which Gerry retorted, "Well, I strongly recommend you leave me to it, or I'll let on you know about it when she looks for somebody to throttle."

That shut him up for a while, but he did make a joke of it. "So what sing would you like me to play at your funeral when she finds a gruesome way to murder you?" he grinned at Gerry. They both started laughing, but both knew how she might take being set up like that.

The only problem was finding a song for her to sing. He wasn't much use at that, and he wanted her to sing something modern, but with a good vocal in it. So, he texted all four of his daughters to come over at half past six that night for pizza, and to bring their music collection with them. He didn't tell them why because he knew that they, particularly Emily as she knew Sandra, would agree with Jack.

So he went to leave at five on the dot, and Sandra eyed him suspiciously. "Where are you in such a rush to?" she asked him, and he had to think fast for an excuse that wasn't a dentist or doctor's appointment.

All he could come up with was: "Dinner with the ex-wives." The most predictable excuse in his book, but also the only one she wouldn't bother questioning.

She just grinned at him and said, "Another little party in you honour?" She was referring to the first time, years ago, he had told her about the dinner parties, and then confided they had used it to tell him Paula was expecting a baby. She, of course, found it hilarious.

"Ha, ha, bleedin' ha," he growled playfully at her, just happy to see her smile after three weeks of her being either aggressive or downright bloody miserable. "See you in the morning."

He turned to leave them all but walked straight into Strickland. "Sir," he acknowledged the man who quite often drove him up the wall, especially when he hopelessly tried to get on Sandra's good side.

"As you all probably know," he addressed the whole unit, "we are having a Music Contest next Friday night. I would like to see all four of you there, even if just for appearance's sake. I don't expect any of you to take part, but I _do_ expect all of you to be there and be supportive of your colleagues from other departments," he told them sternly.

Sandra would agree, even if she would rather be in the pub or at home with a bottle of wine and a thoroughly unhealthy takeaway. "Of course, sir," she agreed reluctantly. "I'll make sure we _all _turn up," she added, eyeing Gerry pointedly. Of course, she would expect him to worm his way out of it. She had a point, mind, since he usually did find a way out of these things.

"Thank you," Strickland said before leaving, and Gerry made a face at his back, pretending that this wasn't exactly what he had hoped for. Jack shook his head at Gerry and Brian looked between the other two men, clearly wondering what they knew that he did not. And Sandra, with her bright blue eyes, was staring at Gerry, and he thought she was trying to think of another insult.

"Gerry, can I have a word before you go, please?" she said unexpectedly. Confused, he followed her into her office and shut the door behind him. To his surprise, she turned on him and gently kissed his cheek, and she let her hand linger on his shoulder. He was acutely aware that she was touching him so softly. He could feel where her lips had touched his cheek.

"What was that for?" he asked her, watching her warm-hearted smile light her eyes for the first time in three weeks.

"For letting me take it out on you," she answered. He knew what she was getting at; the past few days she had been particularly cruel to him, and he had said nothing in response in the knowledge that she was getting all the hurt and hatred and venom out of her system before it cause any real damage. "For not calling me out on me behaviour. Thank you," she said, smiling a little at him.

"No problem," he replied. "I've got a thick skin, me. Have to, working with you all these years," he winked at her with a grin. He put his hands on her arms and looked at her face carefully. Her lips, with the pale pink lips gloss, were turned up ever so slightly. His eyes met her bright blues, and he felt a sudden urge to kiss her, right there in her office.

But he stopped himself, and realised too late that his hands had slipped down to her waist. When he noticed where his hands were, he retracted his hands and gave her a guilty smile. She didn't shout at him. She didn't even glare at him. She just smiled, as if she didn't mind _where_ his hands touched her body. Her the back of her fingers stroked his cheek, and her eyes simply said to him, "I'm sorry for how I've been with you," because Sandra Pullman found it hard to apologise to people.

"I've gotta go, Sandra," he whispered. He had to go home to his girls so he could effectively set Sandra up for next Friday.

"Yeah," she said. "You better get to your dinner, or you'll get such a telling off." She was right, because his daughters were just as good at nagging him as his ex-wives.

"Sandra," he began, feeling like he should have said something to her, but he couldn't find the words to tell her what he had just felt. So all he said was, "Just call me if you need cheering up."

She grinned and watched him leave; he felt her eyes on his back as he walked out of the office, bidding them all a good night. What the bloody hell had he done? He had seriously almost kissed Sandra, for crying out loud. The way she looked at him, she looked like she had felt, however briefly, the same as him.

Well, he never thought he'd ever feel like _that_ about Sandra Pullman.

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**Hope it's alright!  
**

**Please leave a review and tell me what you think!  
**

**Sarah x**


	4. Her Beauty

**A/N: Updates might become a little slower, since something has just gone quite badly wrong and I'm not going to be at home very much, but I mostly write at night so I'm, not sure how much it will affect it.**

**Also, thank you for the lovely reviews for this so far!**

**Sarah x**

* * *

He had it all planned out, though he was more nervous about the consequences than he let his friends see. As far as he let them know, Sandra Pullman didn't scare him anymore. She did scare him, of course, but it would be social suicide to admit that to Jack and Brian. But, when he walked in at nine on Friday morning, with the prospect of the set up ahead of him, he was dreading what he knew she was more than capable of subjecting him to.

But, he had a plan. Not one that would save his skin when the time came for Sandra to throw her toys out of the pram at him, but it would ensure she felt confident enough to actually stand on the stage. He knew how conscious Sandra was about her appearance, and he knew she would hate to stand in front of all those people dressed in her day clothes after making little to no effort – she wasn't to know she was to be prancing around the stage, was she?

So he pulled her aside, into her private office. "Listen," he told her, not allowing a single word escape her mouth. "Caitlin and Emily are having a girls' afternoon in today; Emily's taking her holidays before she loses them, and Caitlin got time off, too. They want _you_ to go, too."

He studied her face and body language, to see if she was buying it. "And why would they want _me_ there?" she demanded, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I might have let slip that you've been a bit worse for wear lately, and Emily knows how hard you work, and they think you deserve a bit of relaxation," he answered smoothly. "Don't worry, I didn't breathe a word about what that scumbag did to you. And the case is closed now, anyway, and Jack and Brian and me can finish the paperwork," he tried to persuade her. He left out the fact that it was one enormous set up, of course. It was too late to go back on it, any road, since he'd filled the form out, provided a backing track and forged her signature, letting on to the receptionist that she'd delegated the task of handing it in to him. He was _dead_, and he knew it.

"What are you up to?" she wondered aloud, although there was a hint of a warm, fond smile gracing her perfect lips.

"Nothing!" he insisted, making sure he sounded convincing. "We just think it's high time you let someone pamper you for a bit. And they love doing it. You know, the make up and hair and shoes and clothes and face masks and all that stuff."

She sat on her desk, and stared at him for a moment. He knew she was deliberating on whether she could force herself to leave work early, and whether she could trust her boys to cover for her if Strickland came around. And she seemed to be deliberating on whether she was actually in need of such a break. The answer to that was obvious, to anyone who had the misfortune to piss her off right now.

"Yeah, maybe you're right," she admitted. "When and where?" she sighed.

He handed her his spare key, and told her, "Let yourself in if they're not there yet. My place, two o'clock, they said. Help yourselves to whatever, but don't you dare get pissed. You still have that stupid music thing tonight, remember?" He had a feeling she could be tempted to to drown her sorrows, but she couldn't. Strickland wouldn't be impressed if she turned up drunk, or didn't go at all.

"Ugh," she groaned. "I'd forgotten about that." She looked at the key he pressed into her hand. "That's a lot of trust to put in someone you know is in a destructive mood," she remarked.

He grinned at her, momentarily thrown by the admission she wasn't in a good place right now. "I trust you. I'm actually more concerned that the girls will get make up and face cream all over my furniture," he added, and this time she returned his smile. This beam, though, was thoughtful and reflective, and he wasn't entirely sure what she was thinking. Mind you, he wasn't sure what she was thinking most of the time, anyway, so it wasn't anything new to him.

"What did I do to deserve you to come running when I need you?" she asked him softly.

"You're the best friend I could have asked for," he complimented her, and made a face at her when she feigned shock. "And right now, you need a good friend."

"And you _are_ a good friend, Gerry," she assured him gently. He felt her hands on his chest, her left sliding upwards to the side of his neck. Just as well the door and blinds were shut, since Brian and Jack were sitting out there. In a heartbeat, he pulled her into his chest again, into a tight cuddle, realising she was not as over her experience as she let on. He realised she needed someone to comfort her who wouldn't take pity on her, because she didn't want that from anyone.

He grinned to himself, with his face buried in her hair yet again. Amelia and Paula had gone out with their dad's cash last night, and had bought a dress and heels for Sandra to wear tonight. He had a feeling the penny would drop at the very last moment, when there was nothing to be done but to bite the billet and get up there and sing.

At half-past six, when he finally got home, he found his daughters waiting outside the bathroom. "She's putting her new dress on," Emily whispered to the man she called her dad.

"She looks _amazing_, if I do say so myself," Caitlin added with somewhat of a smug smirk, before giving her sister a quiet high-five. Just then, out came Sandra, with her golden blonde hair twisted on one side and in a deliberately loose and messy bun at the back. A simple royal blue dress clung to her curves, revealing only just enough of her leg to make any man look twice at her, and a crossed back. He shoes were simple black high heels. Her make-up was simple, with light grey eyeshadow, black eyeliner and mascara, with pinkish-brown lipstick.

She was stunning.

"You look beautiful, Sandra," he told her sincerely, and she gave a wide smile. It had down the trick, then. His girls had made Sandra feel good about herself for the first time in weeks. Emily sprayed hairspray at Sandra's hair, and Caitlin held out a can of body spray.

"This stuff smells awesome," Caitlin reassured her when the can received a wary glare. So Sandra allowed the youngest woman to spray her all over with it.

Sandra looked at the clock on the landing and said to Gerry, "You'd better go and get changed, though I don't know what all the fuss over me is. It's not like I'm going on the stage or anything, is it?" she asked rhetorically. To this, Gerry merely shrugged his shoulders, and gave Caitlin and Emily a warning look in case they made her suspicious of their intentions.

In ten minutes, Gerry was ready and he was arguing with Sandra about whether to take both cars or if they should just take one and they could come back here. She gave in eventually and got in the passenger seat of Gerry's car. He knew she would because he was well aware that she didn't enjoy driving with insane shoes on, and she hated driving barefoot even more.

All too soon, they were at the hotel where the main hall had been rented for the night, and were sitting down with Jack and Brian, and Gerry realised just how deep this hole he'd dug for himself really was. The acts were brilliant, with bands and instrumentals and solo singers, and he was beginning to think Sandra was to close the show. And he was right enough, because, during what had been announced as the penultimate performance, Strickland came to get Sandra.

She gave him a confused glance, and he handed her a napkin with the words _Kelly Clarkson – Because of You _written on it. He'd come up with the idea after hearing it on the radio in her car, knowing she must know the words. He also knew it had to be personal to her, after all that had happened with her parents and all her disastrous relationships, so she would put her emotions into it. "What the _bloody hell_ are you playing at?" she hissed at him. He just grinned at her as she stood up when Strickland chose to take her hand. She reluctantly followed her commanding officer.

She turned around briefly and pointed a finger at Gerry and growled at him an ominous threat he knew she may well follow through on, "You are a dead man walking, Gerry Standing."

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**Hope this is OK!**

**Please feel free to leave a review and tell me what you thought!**

**Sarah x**


	5. Her Fury

**A/N: Sorry for not updating for ages and ages. I am very very sorry. Last week I was terribly busy and this week...well, the past fours days I've been having so much fun I kinda forgot. I am sorry.**

**And thanks for all the reviews on this!**

**Sarah x**

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"Now," began Strickland into the microphone. "When I read the entry form for this final contestant, I must admit I almost died from shock," he joked nervously, and Gerry could just picture the death glare Sandra was sure to be shooting him from the side of the stage. He must have caught it because he rather sheepishly concluded, "So, um...without further ado, with Kelly Clarkson's "Because Of You," is the head officer of UCOS, Detective Superintendent Sandra Pullman!"

A very nervous and _very_ pissed off Sandra Pullman, with her blue dress and insane heels and loosely knotted hair, strode into the spotlight.

_I will not make  
The same mistakes that you did  
I will not let myself  
Cause my heart so much misery  
I will not break  
The way you did, you fell so hard  
I've learned the hard way  
To never let it get that far_

Gerry was thoroughly impressed at how delicately she could use her voice. Her eyes were closed, probably trying to block out the hundred and odd colleagues and friends currently watching her, and her knuckles were white around the microphone. She was clearly so wound up that she was resorting to gripping her mic as hard as she possibly could.

But as the verse ended, her voice became incredibly strong – almost defiant – in the way it boomed across the shocked and silent hall.

_Because of you_  
_I never stray too far from the sidewalk_  
_Because of you_  
_I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt_  
_Because of you_  
_I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me_  
_Because of you_  
_I am afraid_

She took the microphone from it's stand, and moved across the stage. She was clearly too jumpy to stand at peace, and Gerry could hardly blame her. He was well aware of the way she was bound to feel about this, but he still stuck with his original view on it: she needed it.

The emotion was clear in her now. Only a select few people – Gerry, Jack, Brian and possibly Strickland – would know the weight this song had to have on her. The way she was forced to learn from her parents' mistakes, but had to wait until she was forty-six years old to discover the tip of the monumental iceberg, and until she was forty-eight before her world was blown apart by the introduction of a brother only her father, the boy's mother and a handful of others knew existed.

She met Gerry's eyes for just a moment, and he saw not all of her emotion was reserved for her parents. She held a look of sheer fury when she looked at him from the elevated stage, and he knew he was in for trouble when she got to him.

_I lose my way_  
_And it's not too long before you point it out_  
_I cannot cry_  
_Because I know that's weakness in your eyes_  
_I'm forced to fake_  
_A smile, a laugh everyday of my life_  
_My heart can't possibly break_  
_When it wasn't even whole to start with_

But the emotion was there, and she sang softer again. He knew exactly what these lines meant for her. It would surely serve as a reminder that her mother did not believe in rationalisations and white lies. She believed in abruptness and cutting honesty, and she would be the first to point it out if she saw her daughter struggling.

He had seen the days she painted a smile on her lips to hide the tears, but he didn't understand why she thought her boys would treat her as her mother did. But Gerry knew her too well to think he would ever be able to understand her. There were things about Sandra that simply were not to be understood.

She paced the stage again, evidently restless, and her voice grew strong. Powerful. Emotive. And...tearful? Possibly?

_Because of you  
I never stray too far from the sidewalk  
Because of you  
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt  
Because of you  
I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me  
Because of you  
I am afraid_

She was in her element now, and Gerry just knew she had entirely forgotten that she was being watched. This was what he was aiming to achieve. To let the real Sandra come out to play, in front of those who knew and loved her. Her voice was strong, but she, in those moments, was all-powerful.

She didn't seem to realise she had managed to shock a roomful of police officers into a dazed silence. She appeared to know nothing of the effect she had achieved here. Gerry looked around him and found many men staring at her. Ignoring the jealousy creeping up on him, he could understand what mesmerised them all like this.

It wasn't the dress, or the heels, or her curves, or her sheer beauty. It was the strength and the vulnerability in her. The defiance of the way she was brought up and the admission of a hard childhood and past. The refusal to make mistakes and the confession of the mistakes she had already made. It was the side to Sandra Pullman nobody had ever seen, and the side that intrigued everyone in the room.

_I watched you die_  
_I heard you cry every night in your sleep_  
_I was so young_  
_You should have known_  
_Better than to lean on me_  
_You never thought of anyone else_  
_You just saw your pain_  
_And now I cry in the middle of the night_  
_For the same damn thing_

She was quite plainly in her own little world, and she stalked the stage, almost angrily, belting out accusations to the one person who was not there to accept them, and a single reminder to the man who abandoned his little girl.

Gerry smiled to himself. Whether she liked it or not, she had got up and started singing, disregarding her feelings about it. And for that, he knew she had the respect of everyone in this room they were stuck in.

Towards the end of this verse, her voice escalated in volume until the last two lines rang through the room, reminding everyone she was still a human being, albeit a damaged one, too strong to admit the scars existed. She was strong and damaged at the same time, and Gerry began to realise that _this_ was why he adored his guv'nor.

It wasn't the deep eyes or the long legs or brilliant figure that attracted him as much as her fire, her intensity and her drive to find the answers.

_Because of you_  
_I never stray too far from the sidewalk_  
_Because of you_  
_I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt_  
_Because of you_  
_I try my hardest just to forget everything_  
_Because of you_  
_I don't know how to let anyone else in_  
_Because of you_  
_I'm ashamed of my life_  
_Because it's empty_  
_Because of you_  
_I am afraid_

She was lost in her own mind again, singing what she felt. She sometimes bent forwards or back slightly when she had to sing powerfully, but it just added to the intensity of her performance, and the emotions he was allowing herself to throw into this.

The way she lived her life was something Gerry knew she was not often proud of when it was not about work. He sometimes wondered if it had become a cycle from when she was a teenager. Her dad left her on Earth so she still did not attach to people easily. Her mother was always critical so she strived to be the best. Her parents' marriage went to pieces before her dad's suicide, and she knew even at the age of fourteen there was something gone badly wrong, so to this day she ran from commitment like it was the plague.

They both knew her life was empty. No loving husband. No children to watch grow up. No family home with football boots and high heels and wellies sprawled at the front door. Not even a little dog running around, biting her toes as it passed the sofa. She had nothing and no-one the second she walked through her front door.

_Because of you_  
_Because of you_

The silence brought him back from his thoughts. The whole room was so shocked it remained quiet until someone remembered to applaud her, and everyone else followed suit. Se nodded in thanks and stalked off, and Gerry knew she was heading towards him, probably so she could castrate him.

"Well," Strickland said brightly. "I was not expecting that. A lovely surprise. The winner will be announced in twenty minutes, so please remain nearby."

Before he knew it, Sandra stood at Gerry's side, silently ordering him to go somewhere she could slaughter him in private. So when they got outside, round the side of the building in a close where nothing and no-one could be seen, she attacked.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're playing at?" she demanded, so angry that she did not shout but she growled. Those beautiful blue eyes were vivid in their rage, and for a second, he thought she might actually kill him.

"I heard you sing, and you didn't believe me, so I decided to enter you into that so you realised how good you are," he explained. Wasn't it blindingly obvious?

"So you proceeded to embarrass me in front of half the Metropolitan Police Force?" she shot back at him, and he could tell he had to watch his step now. She was more livid than he'd ever seen her, even directed at him, which was one hell of an achievement. But she didn't wasn't getting it? How could she have possibly embarrassed herself, with a voice like that?

So hoe grinned when he pulled it out of his pocket. The tape recorders. "You and your bloody tape recorders!" she exclaimed furiously. "That's illegal, as you very well know."

"Will you just shut up a minute and listen?" he asked exasperatedly. He pressed play, and her eyes widened when she heard her own voice. He honestly believed she was as clueless as she appeared about this. There were many people who went their whole lives never knowing they had this sort of talent.

"Is that – is that me?" she stammered as the recording reached the chorus. Her angry façade soon reasserted itself, and she rounded on him again. "Well, that's beside the point, anyway. You had absolutely no right to put me on a stage without my consent. It was completely out of order!" she shouted at him, getting right up in his face in her rage, He knew she had trouble controlling her temper, so he did not really take offence to the volume and proximity of this particular verbal attack. He had, after all, be anticipating it for almost two weeks.

"And another thing!" she yelled. "Never, ever, set m-" but she was soon cut off. Gerry's control had vanished and he had pressed his lips into hers, and soon she was attacking his lips with hers, slamming his back against the wall. He didn't know what came over him. It was just as if he had lost all patience for her rant, and all patience for her caution, because he knew he was good for her.

"...me up again," she finished her sentence.

"Shut up," he advised her, smiling his special smile for her. This time, she started it, but more gently than before. She reached up for his face, and he felt her fingers trail the back of his neck, pulling his lips into hers so she could kiss him harder.

Well, at least he wasn't dead. Yet.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please leave a review and tell me what you thought of it!  
Sarah x**


	6. Her Kiss

**A/N: I haven't updated this in ages, for which I apologise. This chapter is dedicated to BethyBoo97 as she asked for something to cheer her up, so I hope this helps :)**

**Sarah x**

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She pulled off of him and whispered, "That shouldn't have happened." She stepped back and put the loose section of her hair behind her ear. Her hand went over her mouth in what he knew to be a combination of shock and confusion.

He proceeded to follow her and entrap her with his arms around her waist. "Like it or not, Sandra, I think we both always knew this was going to happen, didn't we?" he asked her gently. He felt her hands wander up his back. She couldn't help herself anymore, could she?

"Promise me a couple of things," she finally sighed. There was a slight glimmer of pain in her crystal blue eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, forcing Gerry to wonder if he was seeing things that simply were not there.

"Anything," he replied, without even thinking about it.

"First, promise me you'll never, ever hit me," she requested, looking straight into his eyes. It angered him slightly that what that man did made her doubt the fact that he would never try and harm her.

"I wouldn't even dream of it. I'll never lay a hand on you, Sandra, I swear," he vowed. "What else do you want me to promise you?"

"Swear to me, Gerry," she began, deadly serious. "Swear to me never you'll leave me alone with Caitlin and Emily again," she grinned. "They somehow managed to bully me into relaxing!"

Gerry found himself laughing at her remark. It was probably perfectly true. All four of his daughters had a tendency to be a little forceful. He leaned in towards her and pressed his lips against hers again. They broke apart, and Gerry delivered the bad news: "We have to go back in until Strickland's done with his nonsense."

He took her hand in his and they wandered to the front of the building and into the hotel. She took his hand out of his and whispered to him, "As far as Jack and Brian get to know, I threatened you with castration," with a grin. He gave a chuckle in agreement. He didn't see a problem with the others getting to know, but he was not going to force Sandra's hand in the matter.

They sat opposite each other at the table, Jack and Brian having moved seats so Sandra and Gerry wouldn't have to sit next to each other, and she threw a glare at him. He could see the excitement in her eyes as she hid what had really happened. How passionately she had kissed him back in her instinctive reaction. He was actually amazed that his face was still fully intact.

"Have you two fallen out?" Brian asked cautiously. "Because if you have, I'm not being the referee," he quickly took himself from their squabbles.

"Count me out for that one as well," Jack hastily added.

"We have well and truly fallen out," Sandra lied, a glint of wickedness in her eyes. He realised then that, even though he'd been rewarded with her for his efforts, she still fully intended to punish him. Probably in ways that would drive him mental, too.

She glared expectantly at him, waiting for him to back her up. "Yeah, well, if she can't see I did it for her own good, that's her outlook, innit?" he concluded to Jack and Brian, not looking at Sandra and lacing his comment with a good dose of bitterness.

"It's not my problem if the biggest thorn in my side decides he knows what's good for me," Sandra retaliated.

They were silenced by Strickland's pretentious accent filling the room. "The judges' panel have come to their final result," he announced.

Gerry ignored him, too intent on fulfilling Sandra's wish to be seen as furious. "It's not like I tied you up and tortured you until you sang, was it?" he challenged her in a whisper.

"Oh no," she laughed sarcastically. "You just put me on the spot in front of half the Metropolitan Police force. No big deal," she added cuttingly. Gerry quite enjoyed this argument with her, however staged it was.

"What choice did you leave me?!" he argued.

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Jack finally intervened. "I take it back. I'll be the bloody referee! Just kiss and make up, will you?!" he ordered them in exasperation.

None of the three of them expected Sandra to take that instruction in it's most literal form. As Strickland spoke on the stage, she snapped at Jack in pretend anger, "Fine then!" before pulled Gerry to his feet by his shirt. She attacked his lips again, and Gerry responded happily, until he realised that _this_ was his punishment. She was punishing him by making him look like he planned this outcome, which they both knew he didn't.

But still he kissed her back, his hand cupping her cheek, pulling her face even closer to his. He heard behind him "...and, in light of her extraordinary talent and exceptional voice, the winner of the Metropolitan Police's Music Contest is Detective Superintendent Sandra Pullman!"

He smiled as she pulled away from him in shock. Light hit her face and he had to stifle a laugh. She had kissed him just as her name was called and that Godforsaken spotlight fell on her. A shocked silence filled the room as, one by one, officers turned to see hard as nails, unbreakable Sandra Pullman kiss irritatingly immature Gerry Standing vigorously on the lips.

She said nothing to anyone. She just stood up straight, somehow regaining some form of dignity, flattened the creases on the waist of her blue dress, pushed that lock or softly curled golden hair behind her ear and graciously strolled up onto the stage. Strickland kissed her cheek and handed her a glass award. "Anything you wish to say?" he asked awkwardly, given what had just happened.

"Yes," she said with a dangerously sweet smile. "First, thank you for this award. I actually never knew I could sing. And, lastly...Gerry Standing, don't think for even a second that you're forgiven. I _will _get you back for this," she warned him ominously, with witnesses.

"Speaking of Gerry," Strickland piped up. "He's asked that you close this show with the song that apparently brought this about in the first place. Do you remember how it came about?" he asked her.

Gerry watched as it flooded back on her. A brief pained expression flashed across her face as she recalled how she felt that day. Then came the actual incident. "We were in the car," she said slowly as she seemed to recall the entire thing. "I wasn't in the best of moods, and this song came on, and I must have been singing along. Gerry tried to tell me I could sing, and I told him it was rubbish. He signed me up for this to prove it to me," she concluded.

Strickland gave a soft laugh. "That sounds about right," he agreed. "So how about we give you a few minutes to sort out..." he trailed off, clearly lost for words. "Whatever was happening before you came up here, and you can return and sing that song for us?" he asked her.

Silently she nodded before saying again, "Thank you."

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please leave a review and tell me what you thought!  
Sarah x**


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